stopbutton

Not to someone’s standards
Of my heart to only one
Not until tangled and bent
It's art and instinct
To remain convoluted and tormented
It’s not a burden laying without guilt
All is shallow to some extent
Walk, head held high
Who tells me that I am deadly
Until those parts are blotted out, fixed
I will continue to deal
Asphyxiate me
Creep beneath my thoughts
Pushed to the furthest corners
Under the bed
Dreams of coffee in the morning
Cigarettes after sex
Fingers down my back
Swinging between extremes
No in between
Live explosively
Though not easily accepted
Rules and warnings
And reining back
alone